"Mom, I want to call off the wedding."

On the eve of her wedding, Hazel Bell called her mother, who was thousands of miles away overseas.

Her mother paused, stunned for a moment, but didn’t press her with questions; she knew her daughter all too well.

With a calm and reassuring tone, she readily agreed, "Alright. I’m getting older anyway, and this business will end up in your hands sooner or later. The sooner you come, the sooner you can adjust."

Hazel responded with a light laugh, masking the ache in her chest. But her eyes betrayed her, drifting toward the bridal suite.

Through the dim light filtering from the window, she could make out the shadows of two entwined figures; one was her fiancé, and the other, her stepsister.

She fought desperately to keep her composure, but her voice betrayed her, trembling with the faint trace of a sob.

Her mother sighed softly, a weight of shared pain in her words.

"I thought he was different. I didn’t expect him to walk the same path as your father and me. It’s alright, Hazel. You’re still young. I’ll be here waiting for you."

After a few quiet words, they ended the call.

Hazel crumbled onto the side of the road as the silence wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. The dam she had held back burst, and her sobs spilled into the quiet night.

The moonlight poured over her, its cold brilliance amplifying the ache in her heart.

——

Before tonight, she had clung to the belief that Ambrose was different.

They had grown up side by side, their bond unshaken, and their relationship officially sealed when they turned eighteen.

Ambrose Wright, born into a distinguished family of scholars, carried himself with effortless grace, his charm and refinement setting him apart.

As the heir to the Wright legacy, he exuded a maturity that set him apart from his peers.

In their ten years together, not once had they quarreled. Ambrose treated Hazel with tenderness and indulgence that bordered on devotion, as though he were the steady, protective older brother she could always rely on.

He showered her with gestures that spoke louder than words, lavish bouquets that filled entire car trunks, glittering jewels piled in velvet cases, and an unwavering willingness to grant her every wish.

To everyone who knew them, Ambrose’s quiet acts of devotion were proof of a love so profound it required no grand declarations.

They were the golden couple of their circle, envied and admired equally.

But that night, at what should have been the pinnacle of her happiness, Hazel’s ten-year dream came crashing down at their engagement party.

Ambrose had invited Hazel's stepsister, Scarlett Jones, the one person she wished to banish from her life forever.

The moment Scarlett appeared, memories Hazel had buried deep came rushing back like a relentless tide.

She remembered how Scarlett and her mother had tormented her endlessly, their cruel words and actions driving Hazel’s mother to the edge of despair.

She recalled the years of torment and humiliation she had suffered, the scars they left behind still aching like fresh wounds.

For once, Hazel, who was always calm and composed, let her emotions take over.

Her usually soft voice now carried a sharp edge as she demanded Scarlett leave.

But Scarlett, ever calculating, refused to back down. She invoked her mother’s name, a taunt that cut Hazel to the core.

Their heated exchange spiraled out of control, turning the engagement party into an utter spectacle of chaos.

Hazel instinctively turned to Ambrose for support, but his hand struck her cheek with a resounding slap before she could utter a word.

“Go home and sober up if you’re drunk. Stop making a scene! Look at yourself; how could you ever expect to be the future mistress of the family?”

His cold words stung far worse than the slap, but the pain didn’t end there. Her father, instead of defending her, added fuel to the fire.

“Your sister just returned, and this is how you treat her? Where’s your dignity as the elder sister? If your Aunt Althea takes offense at this, I won’t forgive you!”

The crowd stood silently, their eyes fixed on Hazel as the two men berated her mercilessly. Every word felt like a dagger, stripping away the last shred of her composure.

Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, Ambrose turned his back on her, escorting Scarlett away without a glance in her direction.

Left alone to endure the whispers and scorn of the onlookers, Hazel felt the humiliation seep into her very bones. Her face burned crimson, though whether from the alcohol or the unbearable shame, she couldn’t tell.

Without a word, she fled the engagement party, her footsteps echoing like a desperate escape into the night.

It was nearly impossible to hail a cab at this hour. After wandering through the deserted streets for over three hours, the cold wind gnawed at her skin and left her head pounding. Eventually, she stumbled her way back to Belmont Villa.

As soon as she stepped onto the first floor, Hazel saw them in her bridal suite, locked in a tight embrace, whispering words that only lovers could share.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to turn on the surveillance camera, piecing together the scattered fragments to reveal the truth.

It turned out that while she had been blissfully unaware, Ambrose and Scarlett had shared a scandalous past.

Eight years ago, in a bid to shed the label of a privileged heir, Ambrose had ventured into entrepreneurship. But his ambitions crumbled, and he teetered on the edge of ruin.

At his lowest, he crossed paths with Scarlett in a rundown youth hostel. Within a month, Scarlett had replaced Hazel, his childhood sweetheart. She carved herself into the most pivotal role in Ambrose’s heart.

But because the Wright family would never accept a daughter-in-law from such humble beginnings, Ambrose settled for Hazel, all the while secretly cherishing Scarlett in his heart.

She believed their bond, built from childhood, was fate’s design. In truth, she was nothing more than a stand-in, chosen out of convenience.

Her feet, raw and bleeding, mirrored the shattered fragments of her heart. The imprint of his slap, like a searing brand of humiliation, destroyed decades of trust and devotion.

A resolute fire ignited within her; she would let go of the man she had clung to for over a decade.

But this wedding wasn’t just an event; it was her dream, a vision of love and promise she had nurtured for years. It had been her lifeline during her darkest days, the glimmer of hope that kept her moving forward.

She refused to let the wedding she had meticulously crafted become a prize for the very people who had betrayed her.

So, Hazel decided that this wedding would mark the final chapter of her decade-long devotion. It would be her last act of closure before severing ties with both her biased family and the unfaithful man she had once loved.

After pouring out her emotions, she took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and booked a flight for seven days later.

The screen blinked as the purchase went through, but it quickly switched back to the surveillance footage.

Perhaps it was fate, or maybe just cruel irony, but Hazel caught the tail end of Ambrose’s confession from years past.

"I regret it," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "When I was young and foolish, I mistook sand for pearls. If you’re willing to return, I’d call off this wedding for you."

He sighed, his voice softening. "Even if you refuse, I’ll still treat Hazel kindly since she reminds me of you."

Even though she had already made up her mind, even though she had seen the betrayal with her own eyes, hearing those words made Hazel’s heart quiver in a way she hadn’t expected.

Looking down at the screen, Hazel saw the love between them spill out as if it were too much to contain.

Scarlett seemed tipsy, her words slow and slurred, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she languidly sprawled across the sofa.

Ambrose, the same man who had scolded Hazel for drinking, now willingly cooked hangover soup for Scarlett, carefully feeding her spoonful by spoonful.

Scarlett turned her head away, a petulant kick directed at Ambrose.

"Who wants to marry you?"

Ambrose didn’t show any sign of anger. Instead, he reached for her foot, gently massaging it with a tenderness that made Hazel’s chest tighten.

Scarlett smiled contentedly.

"I know you can’t marry me because of your status. And I know you’ve never forgotten me."

"This bridal suite is decorated just the way I like it. The wedding ring you chose is based on my preferences. Even the high heels she’s wearing... those were the ones I didn’t want."

As she spoke, Scarlett rested her head gently against Ambrose’s chest.

"It doesn’t matter," she murmured, her voice low and soothing. "I don’t care about titles. As long as the person in your heart is always me, I’m satisfied. I will never leave you again. I’m willing to stay by your side in another capacity."

Hazel’s grip tightened around her phone, her fingers trembling.

Her heart felt as if it were being torn apart, piece by piece.

The most painful part? Even though she had already uncovered the truth, a tiny flicker of hope still lingered in Hazel’s chest, a desperate hope that Ambrose would draw the line at the very last moment.

In the next breath, Ambrose, who had been silent up until now, stepped forward. Without a word, he captured Scarlett in a lingering kiss, his lips pressing against hers with a passion that had been locked away for years.

Hazel couldn’t hold back anymore. Tremors wracked her body as tears streamed down her cheeks.

They had loved each other for ten years, yet every time Hazel had tried to kiss Ambrose, he turned away. Back then, she had convinced herself it was his shyness, his reserved nature. She never imagined that all his yearning, all the love he had buried deep inside, was meant for Scarlett.

They had shared countless nights together, tangled in the intimacy of the same bed, yet Ambrose had kept a piece of himself untouched, reserved for the one he truly loved.

Hazel’s nails bit into her palms, the sharp sting almost suffocating. She cast her gaze downward, her eyes falling on the high heels that felt too tight, too heavy.

They were a gift from Ambrose for their engagement, sparkling crystal diamonds that caught the light like a thousand stars. The shoes were as expensive as they were beautiful, a fairytale dream brought to life. Hazel had fallen in love with them the moment she saw them.

But no matter how stunning they were, they were one size too small, and the pain from wearing them had left her feet bloodied and raw.

Without a second thought, she slipped them off and tossed them into the trash.

Shoes that didn’t fit, no matter how dazzling, weren’t worth keeping.

And a marriage that didn’t fit, no matter how much love it held, wasn’t worth salvaging.

Just as she reached for her phone to call a cab, Ambrose appeared behind her. His voice sliced through the air, calling her name.

Hazel turned, meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Ambrose released Scarlett’s hand, guilt flickering in his eyes as he noticed the bruise on Hazel’s face.

“You’re sober now? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to snap you out of it before things went too far.”

Hazel glanced at Scarlett, and Ambrose quickly added, “It’s not what it looks like. Let me explain…”

“Don’t overthink it. Scarlett had too much to drink. It wasn’t safe for someone like her to walk home alone at night, so I brought her back here. She’s your sister, after all. It’s only natural for me to look out for her. Besides, she’s a considerate girl. She insisted on leaving early because she didn’t want you to misunderstand when you came back.”

Ambrose, usually a man of few words, suddenly became a fountain of excuses when it came to Scarlett. Every sentence seemed to be a defense, a justification for her actions.

Hazel stared at him, the man she had known for over twenty years, and felt as if a stranger stood before her.

They had grown up together, childhood sweethearts through and through. She had been by his side, supporting him through the grind of building his career. How had she ended up as nothing more than a placeholder?

The question lingered in her mind, but she didn’t want to seek an answer anymore. In seven days, she’d be gone.

She no longer had to endure it for the sake of "family harmony."

Hazel’s eyes locked onto Scarlett, and the words she had kept buried for over a decade finally slipped free, tumbling from her lips like a long-held breath.

“She’s not my sister. She’s the daughter of a mistress, and now she’s a mistress herself!”

The words hit like a thunderclap, shaking the room. Scarlett didn’t flinch, but Ambrose’s face twisted in fury.

The word “mistress” seemed to strike a nerve, unraveling his calm facade. He surged toward Hazel, his voice a roar that shattered his usual composure.

“Hazel! What nonsense are you spouting? Apologize to Scarlett right now!”

“Fatherless, motherless, no wonder your parents couldn’t stand you. You’re a bitter, vile person, and no one will ever love you. You deserve this!”

For ten years, Ambrose had never raised his voice at Hazel. But for Scarlett, in the span of one day, he had shouted at her twice.

Every word he spat was like a blade cutting deep into the rawest parts of Hazel’s soul.